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Robert Emmet, 

Drama in Four JIcts 



NEWLY ARRANGED, 



REV. U. G R I F F A 



Robert Emmet. 



Xs. - ii 






^. 



RAMA IN Four JIgts 



NEWLT ARRANGED, 



BY 



REV. Lr. G R I F F A . 



.^,^-C^r... 
O 






OSWEGO, K. Y. 

J. OLIPHANT, JOB PRINTER AND STATIONER. 

1882. 



^2^1 



Pk 



PREFACE 



The idea and several passages of this drama, especmlly in the fourth 
act, were borrowed from that of James Pilgrim; but the rest and the 
arrangement of the plot is all new and original. It is also more in ac- 
cordance with history ; and the principal characters, such as Emmet's 
and Maria CuiTan's, which in the old drama had been left, as it were, in 
obscurity, are, in this, placed in appropriate prominence ; which all ren- 
ders this drama more interesting and important. L. G. 



CAST OF CHARACTERS. 

Emmet — The Irish Patriot, Maria Curran's Suitor. 

O'Leary — (Miles Burns in disguise,) Patriot and Emmet's Friend. 

Do WD ALL — Another Patriot and Emmet's Friend. 

Darby O'GtAff — A Sprig of the Emerald Isle. 

Kernan— A Landlord's Agent, Emmet's Rival and a Traitor, 

ToPFALL — A Sergeant in the British Army. 

John — A Servant, then a Jailor. 

Lord I^orbury — The High Court Judge. 

Foreman of. the Jury. 

Daniel O'Oonnell, 

Parnell, 

Maria Curran. 

Judy — Maria's Maid. 

Other Judges, Soldiers, Emmet's Colleagues, People, Jury, &c. 



Appearing and Speaking in a Dream of Emmet's. 



Entered according to Act of Congress in 1882, 

By Rev. L. Gtriffa, 

in the office of the Librarian of Congress, 

Washington, D. C. 



ACT I. 

Scene 1. — Country. An Inn seen on one side. 
DowDALL, Judy and Darby, then Kernan and Topfall. 

Dowdall — N"ow, my girl, be of good heart. If we part, I am confi- 
dent it will only be for a short time. 

Judy — It's very lonesome I feel to lave home, an' go among 
strangers, an' alone. 

Darby — (Who carries a bundle with her little traps). Alone, ye say, 
darlin'. Ain't I going to be wid ye everywhere and foriver ? 

Dowdall — Yes, my boy; you have been with us long when we lived 
in our old dear cabin. And now that we had to leave it to that rapa- 
cious wolf of Kernan, the agent, you must be wherever we may be. I'll 
see that you may always find some job in this city. But, as to Judy, 
you must be discreet. She will have a good situation, and you must 
not give her a bad name by too frequent calls. 

Darby — Don't be afeard. Master ; I'll be a good boy (to Judy), barrin' 
a little wooing — always dacent. (Judy gently pushes him away, &c.) 

Dowdall — l^ow, Judy, take this letter of introduction to the lady with 
whom you are going to live. It is from one whose word is a command 
to her. She is also alone, her father being away in England. She will 
be more like a sister to you than a Mistress. (Letter is given and taken.) 

Darby — Won't ye tell her also to letme in often to see Judy ? 

Dowdall — It is already arranged that you shall be our common mes- 
senger, I informed them of your fidelity. 

Darby — (Flourishing a shillela) Bedad, sir, I'll shake the carcass of 
any spalpeen that dares to tich her. 

Dowdall — I do not speak only of Judy, boy. 

Darby — Ov coorsh, ov coorsh. But her first. 

Dowdall — And now go. You, Darby, see her to the place and carry 
her traps. 

Darby — I'll carry her, too, if need's be (mimic an embrace and Judy 
does as above.) 

Dowdall — I have some business with the landlord of this inn. He 
will always be able to tell you all about me. Good bye. (Embra- 
ces Judy and goes to inn.) 

Darby — (Putting on the floor the bundle and shillela, and playfully 
rubbing his hands). And now, Judy, darling, before we part and go 
among the big bugs, won't ye say the word ? Shure it's asy enough to 
say it. 

Jtcdy*—YeY wanting it all your way, Darby ; and laving no chance for 
a poor girl to change her mind at all, at all. 

Darby — Ho ! the divil a bit will ye be wantin' to change yer moind. 

Judy — 'Way wid yer. It's swearin' ye are ? (Pat pets her.) Well, 
I'll be yer wife, Darby, barrin accidents, from now till weddin' day. 



Darhy — (Rubs his hands and jumps.) Fais that's kind of ye, Judy. 
Thank ye. (Takes up bundle and shillela.) ISTow let's go. 

Kerna)i—(j\JLdy shrieks.) Hello, that's fine work. (Taunting.) 

Dar'by — Better than all yer old tricks, ye bellababooh. (Mocking.) 

Kernan — Are ye not ashamed, girl, to walk with a ragged ffood for- 
nothing? (Darby shows him his fist.) Tou will surely prefer to walk 
with a gentleman. Come along. (Takes her arm in arm.) I'll show 
you where you want to go. 

Darby — (Puts bundle on the floor and his fist to his face, and pushes 
Kernan away, flourishes his shillela and appears to strike him on the 
leg.-;.) Take this, ye old spalpeen. (Kernan falls and tumbles down.) 

^^enm7i— (Hurt and on the ground yet.) 'Tis the first time I was 
struck by one of your class. 

Dar'by — M ore's the pity for that. If all the like of you be kicked out 
of ould Ireland, 'twould be a great blessing. (Feigns to strike him 
again.) 

Kernan — (Trembling.) You won't kill me now? 

Darby — (Picks up bundle and takes Judy's arm.) Come, Judy, let's 
go. (Exeunt. Kernan is still on the ground, nibbing his legs and try- 
ing to get up.) 

Topfall. — Hallo, Boss ; what's the matter with you? (Laughs at 
him hegn-tily.) Some of your old love scrapes. (Lifts him up.) I was 
j ust looking for you, 

Kernan — That cursed ragamuffinhurt me very badly. ( Rubs his legs. ) 

Tc>/:>/tt 7?-- You wanted to take his girl, eh ? (Laughs.) You are in- 
corrigibly foolish, you inveterate — 

^er;i«?i— Well, let that go, sergeant. (Recovering.) I have busi- 
ness for you, 

Topfall — Dirty, as usual, I suppose. Well, make it glitter with gold 
and I "am ready for anything, 

Kernan — Hav'nt you heard of the new conspiracy suspected by the 
government? 

Topfall — Too much of it already. ISTothing but patrolling here, pa- 
trolling there. I am tired of it. But, so far, I know nothing more. 

Kernan— ^q\\, know, then, that it is a fact. And (maliciously) you 
know that in such case>:i spies are needed. 

Topfall — I see, I see. (Sneakingly,) And you want me to be one 
of them with you? 

iier^an— Precisely, my man. (In low tone.) Plenty of money in it. 
(Shakes pocket full of money.) I had a good bounty already. 

To2)/«77— (Smacks.) Parbleu ! ^ell, what do you want me to do ? 
And how much shall I hav^e of that ? (Slapping Kernan's pocket and 
trying to put his hand in it.) 

Kernan—'Eia.^Y, sir. (Preventing him.) There must be good under- 
standing and honesty — 

Topfall— Eyqti among rogues, eh ? 

Kei nan — Well, now ; (counts on Top fall's hand five guineas)!, 2, 3, 
4,5. The first thing for you, now, is to secure the ma^ called 
Dowdall. I'll show you where the dog loiters. I have dogged him 
throughout the country where he used to live. He has been every- 
where. The details of what he has done there I don't know yet. But 
we'll find it all out now in the city, especially when you have caged him. 



5 

Topfall — I'll cage him. How much will you give afterwards ? 
Kernan — Easy, I say, my dog. Tou are insatiable. (Angiily.) 
Topfall — Tou dog me already; (Turning with menace at Kernan.) 
Kernan— Oh, (conciliating) be patient; be a man. Well, now,listen. 
I'll tell you all. They have dropped their recent name of "United 
Irishmen ;" they intend to revive the old volunteering system of 1798, 
and strike a blow at the Castle. I have this from the authorities. I 
have already discovered for them that the leader of all is an old enemy 
of mine at college, and now mj rival in love. 

Topfall— I knew that there was some love affair, too. (Taunting.) 
Kernan— 'Bqyqv mind that. That's my business. Tour business 
now is to cage Dowdall. Afterwards to be ready for every job I give 
you, with a pack of your soldiers. For every job five guineas more. 
Is not that square enough ^ 

Topfall — Well, we'll see. (Maliciously.) 
Kernan — Tou are a Cerebus, indeed. 
Topfall— A Cer-ber what f (Turning angrily as above.) 
Kernan — Tou don't know Mitology, 1 see. "Well, let us not quarrel 
now. Do you see yonder inn f 
Tojjfall— Good wiskey, there. 

Kernan — I suspect it is the rendezvous of these new volunteers. But 
I'll discover it all myself. jSTow to Dowdall. Secure him and bring 
him here. Come, I'll show you the hound's hiding place. Then we'll 
meet here again at 3 p, m. 



Scene 2. — When the scene opens Maria is in the act of shaking hands 
with Emmet, introducing him into her parlor.) 

Maria — Welcome, dear Robert. Oh ! how I longed to see thee. 

Emmet — Thanks, beloved. 

Maria — I have just received a letter fi'om my father. Ton must read 
it. Please be seated. (They sit down; Maria hands letter.) 

"LoNDOJf, July 15, 180.3. 

(Reads.) "Dearly Beloved Maria: I heartily approve your 
choice of Emmet." (Sptoken—Msmy thanks to the kind old gentleman.) 
^ -I have just a faint recollection of the Kernan you speak of; enough 
though to enable me to say that he seems to be a busy-body, unreliable.'^ 
(Spol'en — Did he reaUy make proposals to you, Maria ?) 

Maria — He has importuned and annoyed me very much ; but I de- 
test him. 

Emmet — The wretch ! Know, Maria, that he is an old rival of mine. 
We were in college together ; and, even then, he always wanted to 
quaiTel with me. 

Maria — Another reason why I should hate him. But read on. For- 
get him. 

Emmet — (Reading). "I have heard a good deal of young Robert 
Emmet and of his brother, and I am greatly pleased to see that they 
follow the footsteps of their father, an old acquaintance of mine, a true 
patriot, who took a prominent part, with Grattan and myself, in all that 
was done for our poor country in 1778 and 1798." 



Maria — How I feel proud of my clear Eobert ! (Emmet bows to 
Maria afiectionately.) 

Emmet. (Reading again.) — "I was informed lately that he returned 
to Ireland from France, with some kind of understanding with the 
French Consul, and that he meditates some new attempt to liberate our 
dear country." 

Maria — Would you tell me something about all that, Robert f 

Emmet — I set out for Ireland in the beginning of October last; and 
when in France I had really the honor of becoming acquainted with the 
great IS'apoleon Bonaparte, who admitted me to confidential interviews, 
concerning his and our country. Between ourselves, we had a mutual 
understanding about what is best to do. 

Maria —I feel still more proud of my Robert ; but read on. 

Emmet. (Reads.) — "The Bonaparte is rather inclined to invade 
other countries. I would prefer to leave our poor country as it is 
rather than to risk a French invasion." (Spoken. — And so I would. 
(Rises with enthusiasm), Ah ! do you, Maria, does your father , sup- 
pose that I would sell away my country to other masters ? No, (ex- 
citedly) whatever I may do, it is, it must be, only to make Ireland a 
nation of itself, independent (with great emphasis) and free! 

Maria — (Caressingly^.) Oh ! do not excite yourself; dear Robert. We 
surely cannot entertain another opinion of you. Tour heart is too 
noble ! 

Emmet — "Well, I will explain this matter myself to your father by 
letter. For the present, know, my dear, that Bonaparte wants to ham- 
per England ; and we can take advantage of England if Bonaparte gives 
her trouble. We can help each other and have each our independence, 
by a simultaneous action against our common foe. That's all there is 
about it. And that's all my understanding with that Frenchman, 
whose unscrupulous ambition I do not, after all, admire- 

Maria — My dear, noble Robert ! (Em.braces him.) 

Eminet — But I must finish the letter. (Reads.) "Tell him to be 
cautious, and to beware of si3ies." (Spoken — Ah! I know that too well.) 
Beads again — "I wish he would get acquainted with old, experienced 
patriots, such as Dowdall, a poor farmer, but who has done a great deal 
of good throughout the country in '78 and '98, and the weU known Miles 
Byrns, who had to flee from Ireland, but who, I hear, has now returned 
with the assumed name of Bryan O'Leary." 

(Spoken — Maria, that is just what I have done. This Byrns, under 
the assumed name of O'Leary, and apparently a simple innkeeper, is 
my most intimate friend, and has already done an immense amount of 
good with us in Ireland's cause. For Dowdall, he is the father of the 
girl whom I recommended to you for a servant. By-the-by, is she already 
with you ? 

Maria — She is ; and quite satisfied am I of her. 

Emmet— W\\\ you allow her father, to take, at times, refuge in your 
house? He attempts, sometimes, most risky operations, and has to 
hide Ts^herever he can find safety. 

Maria — I shall be most happy to do so. 

Emmet — They have also an old family friend, most faithful — by name 
Darby. He may also occasionally repair hither. He is our secret mes- 



senger. If you consent, I would sometimes send you my letters 
through him. 

Maria — All right, all right, Robert. Whatever you say is a command 
to me. But read on. 

Emmet. (Reading). — "Tell him, also, that if circumstances do not 
make it prudent to attempt a political move, he -^ould do better to go 
to America, rather than to return to France^ and await there for oppor- 
tunities. In that case I give my consent to your marriage, and you 
may follow him." (Emmet stops'^ in astonishment.) 

Maria— Oh I yes, Robert, do not be too venturesome. Any enter' 
prise of such nature is fraught with too much danger. I tremble at the 
very idea of you engaging yourself in any. My father's suggestion of 
going to Americja is my dream, since I came to know you. Let that be 
our adopted country, if there's no prospect of seeing Ireland made free. 

Emmet — "What? Fly from my country? Fly from the suffering 
people I have sworn to defend ? Leave them furtherly a prey to the 
insatiate jaws of blood thirsty tyranny? IsTo ! (getting excited) If the 
brave and unfortunate Fitzgerald and his associates felt themselves 
justified in seeking to redress Ireland's grievances by taking the field, 
what must not be our justification now, now that not a vestige of self- 
government exists, in consequence of the accursed Union, and the sup- 
pression, nay extinction, of parliament itself? 

Maria — Too true, Robert. But if you were to make just a vain at- 
tempt, and then die a victim of that tyranny — (Arises ) Excuse 
woman's weakness. I love thee too much to part with thee just to 
sacrifice thee. (Weeps.) 

Emmet— ^qVl, in that case, we would meet surely in heaven. But 
come, come, no tears. My heart tells me that aU will be right. But, 
by-the-by, the letter. (Looks over it.) Oh, there is only left the 
close of it. (Reads.) "Adieu, my dear Maria. Thy devoted father, 

John Philpot Ctjrran." 

(Returns the letter to Maria, who kisses it.) 

—Ah! I feel confident that both Mr. Curran and his daughter 
shaU only have reason to be proud of me. 

Maria — I am and shall always be, Robert, no matter what may 
happen. 

Emmet — Take this cross, (gives it) wear it on that noble bosom. 
When thou shalt hear the shout of the liberated multitudes, press it to 
thy heart, and thank the Supreme Ruler of nations for the retribution 
given to our enemies and for the redress at last afforded to Ireland's 
wrongs. (They embrace and part. Maria retires to another room.) 



ScEJ^E 3. — (Landscape. Set cottage or tavern with the ensign, "Yol- 
unteers." Table outside and stools.) 

C^iear?/— (Enters from cottage. ) Poor Ireland, my beloved country ! 
when will thy sorrows cease ? Tyranny and oppression have laid thee 
waste ! This once happy neighborhood that welcomed the shades of 
evening with joyous faces both in song and dance, when the valley 
echoed with the sound of the meny pipes — alas ! how changed ! (Hears 
somebody coming.) Some new volunteers, I hope, coming to enlist in 



8 



our little baud for the rescue of our dear laud. Ah, no ! it is a stranger. 
I must be cautious. There are so many spies employed by the Enghsh 
government, who prowl around to ensnare the honest. (Kernan ap- 
nears.) Ah ! I fear this is one of them. „ ,r i i. 

Kenian— Good morning, landlord of the ' 'Yolunteers." (Looks at en- 
siffu ) Suppose I volunteer to take a drink? (Pleasant.) _ 

(/fear?/— (Pleasant also.) Suppose I volunteer to give it to you ^ 
(Going to cottage for drink.) , ,. , x r^i, 

Kernan— Ti^-to-p ! But stop ; why do you call this the tavern of the 

"^O'Leary— Oh, its but a joke, just as you took it at first. I volunteer 
cheerfully to give the best whiskey to those who volunteer to drink it 

""""imS-TAsi^ shrewd, the old fellow! But he will 

surely let the cat out of the bag when I have a fair talk with him. 

odearu~(Comes with John, carrying bottle and one glass.) Here is 
the best I have got, Mr. . Excuse, whom have I the honor to 

Kernan— 1 am Kernan, agent of Lord Castlereagh (O'Leary 

bows reverently.) But bring another glass for yourselt, Mr. 

What is your name ? 

O'Leary— (Bovfing as before.) O'Leary, su-. 

Kernan— A volunteer? . a ^^ ^ t- , 

O'Zeary—Of course, as I told you before ; a volunteer to do ail s^oith 
of good to my honest customers. ^i_ i 

Xeryian-Fah\ (Scouting.) In good earnest, bring another glass ; 
let us drink together to the health and success of our volunteers. 1 am 
one of them, you know. , ^ , ^ 

O'Leary— One of what ? (Playing the fool. ) 

iTemaw— Emmet's volunteers. 

O'iearv— Emmet's volunteers ? I don't understand you, su*. 

Fenian— (Drinks-disappointed-aside.) Cleverly innocent! (To 
O'Leary.) But, man, let us be serious; Emmet himself sent me here 
to enlist in his band. 

0'ie«rv— (Playing the fool.) What? ■, .,• 4. 

^c™n-(Gets up somewhat excited.) Oh! don't push things too 
far • vou are surely one of his agents. 

O'Xear?/— (Feigning astonishment and drawing back. ) What do you 



say, sir^ 



'^e^!5J;„^_If you don't enUst me you lose the chance of one of the 
^^"o'Leary—iA^ above) I really don't understand your meaning at all, 
^^le;-n««-( Angry.) Don't play the fool any longer with me (pushing 

him to the wall.) , -, ,x i 

O'Leary— Oh, for pity's sake don t crush me. 
Kernan-Yoii cannot fool me. (Draws him to a seat.) 
O'Leary-Me a fool ! If you call me a fool, why, sir, I'll call you a 

^'^^^^.i-^^^An^^I- (Puts left fist to Keman's face and flourishes shil- 

^^^ffemiT-Oh'f oh ! Surely you are not going to have a quari-el here. 



(Darby gnashes his teeth to him.) Well, well, good bye for the present. 
Here is your pay (throwing money on the table.) Ah! They shall have 
to deal with better men soon. The soldiers are nigh. They have caught 
Dowdall already ; and they will have O'Leary soon. (All this while 
O'Leary and John take tray to cottage. Darby sits down.) 

Darhij (to O'Leary when he comes out). How are yoU; old stock ? 

O'Leary — Quite well, thank you, friend. 

Barly — Is your name O'Leary? 

O'Leary. (Angrily.) That's my name, sir. Have you anything to 
say against it ? 

Darhy — Divil a word, man ahve ; so don't lose your temper. My 
name is Darby O'G-aff, an Irishman bred and born ; and what's more I 
don't care a copper who knows it. 

O'Leary — I have known many who professed the same principle ; but 
regret to say, far different they have acted afterwards. 

Darly — Bad luck to the likes of them. "Well, it's an old saying and 
a true one, "There is always black sheep in a flock f and it's myself 
that would wish no better sport (shaking his stick,) than to slader the 
conscious out of them. 

O'Leary — You speak like a man after my own heart; yet I have paid 
dearly for my experience. Irishmen are too often led astray by placing 
confidence in strangers. 

Bardy — Faith, that's true enough, it's a great failing with the Pats 
telling the divil too much of their mind ; however I have heard your 
character, Mr. O'Leary, and have no occasion to eat my words, so bring 
us a noggin of whiskey to sweep the cobwebs out of my throat. 

O'Leary — "With pleasure. (Exit into cottage,) 

Barby — It's mightj' hard, so it is, that a man's obhged to keep his 
tongue between his teeth for fear of some blackguard swallowing that 
which don't belong to him. Sure O'Leary 's a man of larning, and un- 
derstands the ways of the world. 

(Re-enter O'Leary and John, with whiskey, places it on table) 

That's right ; a drop of the crater will stir me up like old cheese, for 
it's tired I am, intirely. (Drinks. "Exit John.) 

OLeary — Have you journeyed far to-day? 

Barly — I have that same, on the marrow-bone stage, (stamping his 
feet) from Dunlary to Dublin. 

O'Leary — Indeed ! What is the news? 

Barhy — The news, is it? Faith, there's all sorts of it. The redcoats 
are strutting about, and don't seem over asy about the affairs of the 
nation, and the people look at him wid a nod and a wink, which plainly 
shows that the Irish blood is in commotion, and they will soon have to 
whistle for their taxes. 

O'Leary — "Would to heaven, the hour had arrived. Old as I am, I'd 
grasp a sword in the cause of freedom. 

_ Barby — More power to ye. (Grasping his hand.) May ye never die 
till the green banner waves in the breeze on Dublin Castle, and the boys 
of the sod knocks spots out of the British Lion. 

O'Leary — Amen. But the sons of the Emerald Isle will have to 
drink deep of blood, before she can rise up in her ancient glory. 

Barhy — To the divil I pitch the glory ; it's justice we want and jus- 






tice we will have. I've made up my mind to pay no more taxes, and 
may I never hear of Yinegar Hill, the home of George "Washington, if 
I don't play the drum on the heads of the tax gatherers with the patent 
drum sticks my father gave me. (Shaking his lists. Distant drum,) 
Eh! the spalpeens are coming this way. Faith, there's mischief 
brewing. (People hurry across and come forward in great fear.) 
What the devil's the matter with ye all, that your legs are running 
away with your bodies so fast ? 

Omnes — The soldiers are coming. 

i)ar&i/— Bad luck to them, let them come ; there's enough of us to 
dust their jackets, any how— the more we submit to the blackguards 
the more we may. 

O'Leary — Go into the house, friends. . I'm an old soldier, who for 
years witnessed the cruelty of the men we have to deal with in a for- 
eign land. 

Darby — Devil a step I'll move. (Flourishing stick.) Here's a piece 
of black thorn that belonged to my grandfather before he was born, andi 
I'll go bail that I'll slader the skulls of any man of them who dares to 
say black is the white of my eye. 

O'Leary -Take my advice. I beg that you will all go into the 
house. 

Omnes — Yes, yes, let's go into the house. 

Darby — Well, well, I wouldn't for the world offend you, Mr. O'Leary ; 
but remember if the bog trotters come with any of their nonsense, Dar- 
by O'Gaff's at your elbow. (Exeunt into cottage. O'Leary sits at table. 
Drum.) 
(Enter Sergeant Topfall with soldiers, and Dowdall, a prisoner, his arms 

pinioned behind him. Comes down.) 

AS^er^.— Halt, men. (Soldiers stack guns.) (To O'Leary.) Well, 
landlord, you're taking it easy. However, there's nothing like it when 
you can do it on the square. We have had a tolerable stiff march, and 
I must confess that your Irish miles are plagued long ones; and I was 
duced glad to see the smoke curling through the trees from your tavern. 
You don't appear over courteous in welcoming us, Are you a friend or 
a foe ? 

O'Leary — (Rising.) A friend always to the oppressed, and a foe to 
the oppressor. 

Serg. — Come, come, mind what you say; my authority is not to be 
trifled with when I ask a question as a sergeant in the king's service. 
I demand a direct answer ; are you a loyal subject— a friend to your 
country ? 

O'Leary — Look at the scar on my forehead. I received it fighting for 
my country, 

Serg.— Be direct in your replies, or it may be worse for you. 

O'Leary — Am I to be insulted without cause at the threshold of my 
own door ? My grey hairs should, afleast, command some respect even 
from British soldiers ! 

Darby — (Peeping from window in cottage:) The divil roast the lot 
of them, and it's myself that would like to be the cook. By St. Patrick 
I'd baste them well with the dripping. 

Serg. — Well, I don't want to annoy you ; l)ut we are hungry and 



II 

must have something to eat. (To soldiers.) Come, boys, let's see 
vrhat the old uiau's larder contains. 

0' Lear J. (Stopping him.) Stop, friend ; this cottage I inherited 
from my good old father, and the land we now stand on was his birth- 
dgbt, and, old as I am, I defy yon or any other man entering its door 
without my consent ! 

Serg. — 0, very well ; I see you want me to make use of my authority. 
You may be a bold fellow — 

O'Leary — I am an honest man. 

Serg. — Then why refuse to give hungry men something to eat? 

Darby . (At window,) You lie, you ghost of a lobster; an Irish- 
man never denies the bite and the sup either to friend or enemy- 
The old man only wants that which costs nothing— civility — and by 
!my soul, I'll batter your skull if you don't give it to him ! 

Serg. — Insult to the king's troops ! Men, go in and bring that fellow 
out. 

O'Leary. (Interposing.) l^o, no ; he's but a poor country boy, and 
don't comprehend the meaning of our conversation. Such as my poor 
cottage aftbrds is freely at your service. Sit down and I will bring you 
some refreshments. 

Serg.— Then, quick, march, Mr. Landlord, I have [no desire to have 
a row ; but eating is the word. (Exit O'Leary into cottage.) We must 
look after our stomachs. 

Darby. (At window, aside.) Bedad but I'll give you the fill of your 
stomachs before I'm done with you, and something on your backs in 
the bargain. 

Serg. (Takes the letter from his belt — glancing over it.) There's 
treason in every word of this letter and signed Eobert Emmet. (To 
Dowdall.) Can you tell me, prisoner, who this Eobert Emmet is ? 

DoivdaU — A man. 

Serg. — Well, I didn't imagine that he was a woman. I distinctly 
asked you who he is? 

Dowdall — An Irishman. 

Serg. — Say rather a traitor, who has been scattering the seeds of re- 
bellion through the country. 

Dowdall— 'Kq is no traitor, sir. I know him to be a just and honor- 
able man, that loves his native soil — a true patriot, who has ventured 
his all to rescue a groaning people from the base English aristocracy. 

Darby. (At window, aside.) Long life to ye, my bold fellow. 

Serg. — I don't know anything about the aristocracy. Soldiers never 
pretend to know anything but the orders issued by their superior officers. 
(Re-enter O'Leary and John, with tray, bottles and bread and 
meat. Places it on table) 

O'Leary — There is the best my humble roof can afford. Shall I give 
something to your prisoner ? 

Serg. — Don't trouble yourself. (Eating with soldiers.) Mr. Land- 
lord, self-preservation is the first law of nature; after we are done will 
be time enough. The prisoner has given me nothing but saucy answers 
since he has been in my charge ; one good turn deserves another. 

Darby. ' (At window aside^) That's true; one good turn deserves 
another, and, by the hole in my coat, I'll do one for you before you're 
aware of it (Leaves window.) 



12 

O'Leary — This may be the English way of treating the unfortunate, 
but— (Enter Darby from cottage. Puts his hand over his mouth.) 

Darby. (Aside.) Easy— I'll show the spalpeens a trick ! 

O'Leary. (Pushing Darby away.) I will speak my mind, come 
what may ; it's against the laws of nature and humanity for men who 
profess to be Christians to eat and drink and not give a mouthful to a 
fellow creature, although a prisoner. The food is mme, and was pur- 
chased by honest industry. I insist that the prisoner partake of a share ! 
(During the above Darby beckons on the peasantry, who, by his 
instructions, take possession of the soldiers' guns and release Dow- 
dall.) 

Serg. — 0, if you're inclined to bluster, I must put a stopper on your 
mouth ; don't go for to thmk that I'll put up with any nonsense. 
(Kisiug.) Men, seize that old rascal ! 

Da)-hy — On to them, boys. Old Ireland forever ! (Music. Soldiers 
start up, Sergea.nt seizes O'Leary, Darby knocks him down, soldiers 
rush up for guns, are met by Dowdall and peasants, fight, Darby knocks 
one down after the other, till soldiers are overpowered. Tableaux. 
Scene closes ) 



ACT II. 

Scene 1. — Maria's Home Again. Table and chair. Maria sitting. 

Maria — Yes, dear Eobert, whatever thy fate may be, I shall share it 
with thee. Where may he be now ? Alas ! his desperate struggle is 
fraught with danger. La«t night I had such dreams! (Rises.) Me.- 
thought I heard him shouting freedom through the Capital to weeping 
Ireland; then came a buzz of mingling sounds with the clash of arms. 
The green banner floated in the breeze. Ten thousand tongues pro- 
claimed aloud : "Robert Emmet, the champion ! Ireland is free !" 
My heart beat with radiant hope in my proud breast; I knelt in prayer. 
But the bright vision vanished ; the scene was changed ; a river of 
blood appeared ; crimsoned waves lashed and foamed ; and there, upon 
the gory tide, I saw a form as if mangled hy savage beasts! 'Twas 
Emmet ! (Buries her face in her hands. Enter Judy, running.) 

Judy— Och, mistress dear, he's come, he's come ! May he live forever, 
for the sake of my blessed old mother; for, he's going to marry the 
daughter, and that's myself! 

Maria — What mean you ? 

Judy — Faith, it's my own dear darling, Darby O'Gaff. 

Maria — Invite your friend in, Judy, and make him welcome. 

Judy— Fsiith, and he's rubbing his brogues atthe door, like a real gen- 
tlemEm. (Calling.) Come in Darby, jewel. (Enter Darby, with a 
letter.) 

Darby - (Bowing awkwardly.) Beg your pardon, ma'am; I'm here, 
ma'am; Judy. called me, ma'am. 

Maria — I requested her to do so. 

Darby — Thank'ee, ma'am ; may the blessings of good living be wid 
ye, and bad times never come within smelling distance of your ladyship. 



13 

If you plase, here's a small trifle of a letter for your good-lookiug self. 
(BowiEg, gives letter.) 

2Iaria-~Ah, it's from Emmet. Thank you, My. O'Gatf. Judy, take 
him down to the kitchen and give him some refreshments. (Exeunt. 
She opens letter, goes to table and sits down, to read. Bell rings — she 
stops and looks.) 

J«r7//— (Ensbing in.) A gintleman, a friend of Mr. Emmet's, he says, 
.wants to see you. (Kernan follows.) Oh, he is here already. In iny 
hurry to wait upon poor Darby, I lelt the door ajar, and ho came in at 
once. Pardon ; I go now. (Exit.) 

Maria — (Rises, holding letter.) Youf Here.'' Isovrl 

Kenian — Pardon me, Miss Kernan. . 

J/rrr«rt— (Angrily.) Well, what do you want? 

J\ernan—0\i I please do not look upon me so angrily. Bestow upon 
me but a glance of your-sweet, charming — 

J/rtr/«— (Interrupting.) I am not fond of flattery. 

A'er»fln— It is no flattery when it comes from one who is just about 
giving a new proof of his disinterestedness and of the sincerity of his 
love. 

Maria — I can not allow such allusions, sir. If you have a serious 
business to transact, or a favor to ask, speak at once, and don't inter- 
rupt me any longer from attending to my correspondence. 

Kernan — Please, Madam, sit down and read calmly your letters, I 
can help you to attend better to your correspondence, by what I have 
to say to you afterwards. (Maria reads.) (Kernan says aside.) How 
lucky I was to come at this moment.) 

J/Vn-irt— (She lays on table letter, holding her left baud upon it.) "Well, 
sir, what have you to communicate to me :^ 

Kernan — Please first to tell me where I could find Mr. Emmet for a. 
private interview. I suppose he tells you his whereabout in that letter? 

Maria — That is none of your business. 

Kernan — It is, madam. I joined his volunteers and discovered that 
some of his moves may prove fatal ; I want to warn him. 

Maria — And he warns me to beware of you. (Sneering, she rises, still 
holding letter with her left hand on the table.) 

Kernan — (Rises too.) Oh I jealousy makes him act so ; it is a great 
pity. (Kneels, taking hold of Maria's righthand, drawing her down and 
trying to make her Jose hold of the paper.) Oh,foryour ownsake, pray 
procure to me an interview with him. (He draws her more down and 
tries to get hold of the letter.) 

Maria — (Screams.) Oh, wretch! (Excited, sh© runs out to call,, 
and forgets the letter on the table, which Kernan seizes and reads 
quickly.) 

Kernan — A]i\ the password ^'Liberty," the place ''Xo. 40 Patrick 
street." (Puts letter in his pocket.) 

Maria — (Coming back affrighted.) Oh, my letter I my God! he has 
got it. (Darby enters and Judy.) Expel that thief; get my letter out 
of his pocket. (Darby takes him by the shoulders ; Judy takes paper 
from his pocket; Darby kicks him out doors ; Maria goes to her seat and 
writes a few lines. ) 

B 



^4 

2farla—J)SLvhy, Mr. O'Gatf, quick, please run and give this note to 
Mr. Dowdall ; you know where he is. 
Darhy— In a giflfy. (Runs off.) 

Scene 2— Tte Inn Again. (O'Jieaiy and Dowdall sit outside on a 

bench.) 

O'Leary — I tell you, the more I consider Mr. Emmet's plans, the 
more I like and admire them. Oh ! If such a plan hadheen conceived 
and carried out in '78 ! 

Z>0!t"c?rt?Z— Heretofore, people were too prejudiced and clannish. They 
alFo feared the government too much, as children do their father's rod. 
Then, they always lacked boldness and determination. 

(yLearij — ^h! nothing like a sudden good blow. It stuns the ene- 
my down at once powerless. By the by, let's have a drink. We have 
a hard time before us. John, (calls) bring whiskey I 

Jolm — (Brings the whiskey.) And may it do you ail sorts of good. 
(Pours some for himself, too.) Long life to— — (raising glass.) 

O'Leary — D(m't say to anvthiug, (some one might make mischief out 
of it. 

John — Oh ! no harm in saying (raising the glass) longj;_life to our 
stomach. (They laugh.) 

O'Leary — Go, go, uom^ Well, Dowdall, if our present attempt should 
fail through some mishap — God forbid it 1 — I really think that, at any 
other time, to obtain freedom for Ireland, Kobert Emmet's plan will be 
the only successful one. Take the Capital after a careful preparation 
throughout the country, and the provinces will at once burst out and 
raise the standard of victorious liberty ! (Strikes the table, making the 
glasses jingle.) 

Dowdall — Keep cool. Miles. But really I think so too. And now, 
let us take a review of our work, before we go on. 

O'Leary — (Taking paper out of his pocket, looks cautiously around. 
John is seen at the door, seemingly- spying.) Take the glasses awa.y, 
John, and go about j^our business inside. 

John — Yery well, very well, sir. (He quaffs in haste a drink of whis- 
key.) 

O'Leary — Here is the list of my recruits, (Giving paper.) 

Dowdall — Here is mine. (They look over each other's paper silently 
for a while.) "Why, Miles, you have the flower of the young g(?ntry of 
Dublin ; and — let me see— (reckons) nearly one thousand strong young 
men! (Strikes his shoulder.) And— what do I see?— Thomas Kussel, 
too! 

O'Leary — A. military man of experience is needed to lead to victory 
those young men. (John is seen peeping at the door, and hiding, again 
and again, during the conversation.) And I see that you have ail the 
bravest old volunteers of '78. (Looking at Dowdall's paper.) Ah! we 
shall have the best pikers of Wexford and Wicklow. 

Dowdall — And to-morrow, sir, after those pikers and the rest will be 
within sudden notice from us, the principal bridges of the roads behind 
them will be destroyed, and Dublin shall have no mail coaches from 
those directions. 



15 

O'Leary — That is caxjital! And now, you know Emmet's great in- 
vention, the log bombs : my brother in-law, Kennedy, and Howley, the 
carpenter you sent me from your village, have filled them all with ex- 
plosives and stones, and have hauled them and disposed them near the 
houses where Kenned}^ has contracts, and they will be there ready to 
be thrown across the streets to impede the march of the enemy's 
troops. 

Doivdall — Poor Emmet, he has already spent the greatest part of his 
patrimony in providing pikes, and all such armaments. 

O'Leanj — Why, friend, he has also purchased the 2,000 pistols and 
300 blunderbusses, which we have distributed. I wonder how he could 
afford such expenses ? 

Doivdall — (In low tone) Miss Curran gives him a great deal of 
uioney. A brave Irish girl ! A true lover ! (Kernan appears in the 
l)ack of the scene.) 

O'Leary — (They turn around, and pocket their papers.) It seems as 
if someliody is lurking around. 

Darhy — (Jumps in. singing.) Hapj)y to meet ye. Jist wanted ye. 

Doivdall — (Reassured.) Oh it is only our frolic friend Darby. What 
news Darby? (He looks around too as if he heard somebody, and 
goes back and around where Kernan had appeared.) 

Darhij — Any spalpeen around here to knock down ? (John come 
out.) Have you got a goat, Mr. O'Leary? (rans to John with shillela— 
John disappears.) Look here now (mysteriously.) Here is a genteel 
little 'pistle from the lady where Judy "is. (Hesmells it.) Oh what a 
sweet perfume those dear fingers left on it ! 

Doivdall — (Reads it to O'Leary.) " Kernan intercepted a letter from 
Emmet to me and read some of it ; though we snatched it out his pocket 
afterwards." 

Darhij — (With great pride) I did that! (He runs up again around 
to watch against intruders. ) 

Doivdall — (Reads again.) "He knows now the place where you are 
to meet this evening with Mr. Emmet, as well as the pass-word. Be- 
ware, and inform Mr. Emmet quick." I'll go at once to inform him and 
get another pass -word and notify it around. (.John appears from time 
to time.) 

O'Leary — And I go at once to remove everything from that depot to 
the other in Marshalsea lane. IS'otify them so. (John heard this.) 

Darby — The lady wished me also to tell you not to come to sleep 
there to-night, as it won't be safe. Tho' I'll be there to save my future 
father-in-law, even from a regiment of sogers ! (proudly.) 

O'Leary — Let us be off, quick ! 

Darby — Quick, Darby, to Judy's again. (Jumps and flourishes shil- 
lela.) 

Kernan— {'Who comes down stealthily and joins John, who did the 
same from Inn.) What is the place of meeting? (mysteriously.) 

John — In Marshalsea Lane. 

Kernan — What number? And the pass-word ? 

Jolm — They did not mention the number; and they have gone for a 
new pass-word. But never mind. By that time I'll know all. You 
will see me near the entrance. Only look out for me. (He stretches 
hand for money — Kernan gives sonie. [Exeunt.) 



i6 

Scene 3. — A kitchen in Maria's house — lireplace with kettle full uf 
water — A petticoat, cloak, bonnet and cap hanging on nails — a table and 
stools — A jug — rope hanging near the door— Judy is at table making 
paste for pies— bowl of flour on the table. 

Judy — What a mess! I don't understand anything at all, at all. But 
my head is so full of my Darby that I cannot think of any thing else. 
Och ! och ! [Cries.] "What may have become of him now ? [She wipes 
her eyes with hands stained with flour and stains her face.] And my 
poor mistress is just gone out. distracted, after her Eumiet, and here I 
am all alone. [Cries, etc.] 

Barb!/ — [Knocks at door,] Judy! 

Judy — Here he is at last. [Runs to open door.] 

Darby — [Pufilng.] I have run so much. [Throws himself on stool.] 
Quick, Judy, dear, a little of the cratur, or I'll die of consumption. 
[Judy brings jug. He drinks from it.] Poh! poh ! [Laughmg] Judy, 
you have got whiskers. Have you become a man ? [ Heavy l^nocks at 
the door,] 

Judy — Perhaps mistress forgot the key. [She goes to the door, wip- 
ing her face with apron — opens, screams, soldiers appear and rush in, 
Darby hides under the table.] 

Serg. — We must search the house, girl. 

Judy — Xobody in, sir. 

Serg. — [Takes her l\v the hand.] Come, show us all the apartments. 
[They all go. Darby dresses up in woman's clothes and sits near the 
fi rep face, &(:. 

Darby— I am a broth of a boy that will flx the sogers. 

Judy — [ With soldiers coming. J Faith, you'd find no one here but 
my brother. 

Darbij — Och! murder! Judy, vou divil, its vour mother lam — 
whist! ■ 

Judy — [Pointing to Darby.] There, Mister Soldier, did'nt I tell you 
there was no one here but my mother I 

Serg. — Why, you told me your brother was here. 

Judy — It's my mother I mint to say. 

Serg. — Brother — mother — well, they do fe'ound very much alike. 

Judy — Yes sir, the poor old soul called to give me her blessing. 

Serg. — You have been indulging the old woman with whiskej^ and 
peck at your master's expense. 

Z)('/r?yi/'— [Aside.] Take care that I don't peck you. 

Judy — Sure, you would'nt have me send the poor old crature away 
without the bite and the sup, 

Serg.—O, of course not. We will follow the old woman's example — 
and take a bite and sup — eh lads ? Ha, ha, ha ! [ Soldiers laugh,] 

/)«/■&//— (Aside.) Be dad ? I'll make you laugh the wrong side of 
your mouths presently. 

Serg. — B;ing out some whiskey, and the best victuals you have in 
the house. 

Darby— (Rismg.) Exactly. Give the gentlemen some whiskey, 
Judy; and I'll help ye to spread the table, 

Serg. — Well done, old woman ! Make her stir her stumps. 



^7 

Darhtj— (Aside.) Yes: and I'll stir your stumps before you're out of 
this house. (Judy gets drink from closet; Darby brings bread and meat, 
which they place on table ; soldiers eat and drink. 

Serg. — Eat away, lads; it's uncommonly good; the whiskey is capital. 

Darhij — You admire the flavor of it? 

Serg. — Decidedly. Better I never tasted. 

Dai by. (Aside.) I'll give you something tasty by and by. 

Judy. (Aside.) What are you going to do, Darby, dear? 

Darhy. (Aside.) Pay them the old score, for ill treatiDg one of our 
countrymen the other day. 

Serg. — Some more whiskey, young woman; it's excellent. "We can't 
refuse another bumper apiece- -eh, lads ? 

Omnes — Yes, yes; another bumper. 

Darby. (Aside.) Bumpers? If ye don't behave yourselves you'll 
get plumpers from Darby O'Gaff. " (Judy brings another bottle of 
whiskey; Darby goes and brings the rope.) 

Serg. (Fills glasses.) Well, lads, here's confusion to all rebellious 
subjects. (All drink.) Ha, ha, ha ! That's a good toast. 

Darby. (Aside.) It will be better when I. butter your toast for you, 

Serg. (Getting tipsy.) Come, young woman, you and your mother 
can drink that sentiment. 

Judy — Sure, myself nor mother won't drink anything just now. 

Serg. (Rising, staggers.) Well, if you don't drink, give me a kiss» 
(Judy runs to Darby.) 

Dartey — Just keep your distance, Mr. Puddinghead, or I'll slap you 
across the jaw. 

Serg. — Don't give us any of your impudence, old woman ; we are 
lords and masters here. (Staggering.) Come and give me a kiss, Molly, 
or whatever your name is. (Advancing. Darby takes up bowl of flour 
throws it into their faces ; they stagger against the table, sneezing ; 
Darby very quickly takes rope, throws it over sergeant and soldiers; it 
being in a loop, draws them all on to the table; Darby lays on them 
with stick ; Judy runs to fire and throws contents of pot over . soldiers, 
who shout and struggle. Tableau. Scene closes.) 

Scene 4. — Depot in Marshalsea Lane — (Pikes stacked — John, as por- 
ter, stands at the door — A number of young men follow, some of whom 
go for their pikes and form a line — Last comes Kernan, dressed like the 
rest, and takes a pike and mixes up in the line with the others — Imme- 
diately after enter O'Leary, Dowdall and Emmet, with three more, re- 
presenting Eussell, Kennedy and Howley — Emmet carries papers un- 
der his arms, which he has taken out of his pocket when he entered — 
The latter all go to the table, down center, upon which Emmet displays 
papers, one of which is large, intended to be a map of Dublin— Kernan 
manages to take a place near the table.) 

-Ewwe^— Gentlemen and Fellow Patriots, the time has come for final 
action. It is well for us this evening to revise carefully our plans of 
operation, weigh them well, and agree upon every article. This paper 
contains the order of every move, with the part that every one has to 
act. This other is the map of the city, in which the route is marked for 
our every step, with the places or posts from which each is to emerge, 



i8 

■when the signal is given, and rash on to the point of attack— the Castle. 
Let us agi-ee well upon all this at this meeting. To-morrow evening, 
our last rally here, will be our partmg with each other for every one's 
destination and action. The day after to-morrow — (Knocks at the 
door.) 

John. (Loud.) Who is there? (They all turn toward the door.) 

Darby. (Outside.) Twenty-third of July! (The new password.) 

John — I don't know your voice. (Comes down to the table.) He 
knows the password, but he might be a spy for all that. It is the voice 
of a stranger to our meetings. 

Emmet— (To Dowdall.) Please to go and see to the matter yourself. 
(He goes with John.) 

Doicdall— Who is there ? (At the door.) 

Dardy— Don't ye know yer Darby ? 

Dowdall—The key, John. I know the man. (John fumbles with 
the keys, and delays. ; Quick, sir. (^Snatches the key and opens. Darby 
enters hastily and holds the door.) 

Darby. (To John.) I'm a stranger and a spy f (Knocks the shil- 
lela over him.) Thcu art the real spy. (He takes John by the neck 
and kicks him out doors.) Go, with the other goats. (Dowdall locks 
and comes down with Darby.) 

(yZeary- -And to think that I had that fellow in mv own ho^^se as 
servant ! 

Darby— But there are other spies here. [He goes furiously around, 
looking on the face of every pikeman. When he comes to Kernan he 
stops and puts the shillela's point to his breast. Kernan turns the pike 
to pierce Darby ; but Darby seizes it, and a straggle ensues, at which 
Darby snatches the pike, throws it away and, collaring Kernan, brings 
him down before the table.] 

All — Kernan ! — a traitor. 

Emmet. [To Kernan.] Villain! [To the rest.] Whatmustbehis 
doom ? 

All — Death! Death! [They point the pikes to him. Tableau.] 

Emmet — Friends, what did the gi*eat American say when the British 
Major Andre was convicted as a spy? "Let him be kept in prison and 
live to see our triumph." So say I. Let us not commence the salva- 
tion of Ireland by the eflPiision of blood, even of such a vile traitor like 
this. Confine him in this basement and punish him with the spectacle 
of our banner floating on the Castle. Dowdall, please to take him down 
and appoint custodians over him. 

Doivdall- Come, Darby, you are the man to take care of him. [They 
take him down by the trap. He picks one of the pikemen.] This 
man will relieve thee at times to be arranged between yourselves. 

Darby. (To Dowdall.) Thankee; I must go sometimes to see Judy 
and the other lady. [Sits on the trap.] 

Emmet — Il^ow let us attend to our business. [They sit around the 
table, and pikemen take their position around.] The plan [looking at 
paper occasionally] consists in taking by surprise the Castle, whilst the 
Pidgeon House, the bridge, the Koyal Barracks, and the old Custom 
House Barracks are simultaneously attacked. You know, at each of 
these places a very small force is kept, which twenty or twenty-five of 
our volunteers can easily manage. Colonel Lum, Malachy Delaney, 



19 

[pointing to some of the pikemen,] John Hevey and Felix O'Ronrke 
will lead the above four columns, formed and started from our old 
depot in Patrick street [pointing on the map.] The rest of our Dublin 
force will, in small parties, gradually gather at Eedmond's, O'Lcary's 
inn, and at Quigley's. There, you, Mr. O'Leary, will attend to arm 
them well and take their command. Dowdall will bring in all the re- 
inforcements from the country, and supply them with the arms and am- 
munition gathered there, [pointing on the map.] Lieutenant Russell 
you shall have the command in general, with orders to be given early 
in the evening. Mr. Kennedy and Howell will please to attend to put 
on the streets and fire the mmed logs according as needed to ob- 
struct such cavalry and infantry that may pursue us. I, friends, will 
fight my way ahead of you all, carrying our banner, and, treading on 
the bodies that I'll slay before my march, will hoist it on the Castle! 
[full of enthusiasm.] "^TVhat do you say to all thisf 

All — All is perfect. 

Emmet — Do you, then, all agree to the part allotted to you? 

All — We all agree. 

Emmet — Let, then, this night and all the day to-morrow go in pre- 
paring things. Tc-morrow evening, at 9 o'clock, at the signal given, 
we'll all fly each to his own task. The 23d of July, 1803, will be a 
memorable day in history. 

O'Leari/ — But what will be the signal, and who will give it? 

Emmet — Just at ten minutes before the clock of the castle tower 
strikes nine, two torches will shine at the highest window of the Castle, 
held in her hands by a lady who has secured and purchased at a great 
price access to the place. Her name is Maria Curran. 

All — Brave and true Irish lady. 

Darly. [From over the trap.] Long live the ladies ! [Shouts and 
flourishes the shillela. ] 

Emmet — Au revoir, then, on to-morrow evening, just for an informal 
meeting. 

All — Au revoir ! To-morrow evening ! [They shake hands.) Long 
live Robert Emmet ! 

Darhy — (Jumping and making an immense fuss.] Long live ! Long 
live! Hurrah I [Takes his stand on the trap, &c. Tableau.] 



ACT III. 



Scene 1. — The Depot in Marshalsea Lane. (John and a pikeman at the 
trap, which they open.) 

John — Mr. Kernan! (Calling.) 

Kernan — Hello ! What has happened ? (Scrambling up from trap.) 

Jolin —This man, who was custodian here with that devil of a Darby, 
let me in, and has now opened the trap for you. But he wants a good 
pay for it. 

Kernan — Ho ! ho ! (Tries to run away. They take hold of him and 
put him down again in the trap, roughly.) Well, (from inside the trap) 
I have not much money here with me, but let me out and T will give 
you all you want. 



20 

John — Give all you have now, and promise to give each five guiuea.s 
to-moiTOTV. 

Kernan — Well, here — (Gives money to each.) Now, let me out, 
and I promise you everything you like. (They let him' out after hav- 
ing searched his pockets.) 

John — JsTow, I must go, too, before they meet. It's near time. (The 
pikeman closes trap, then the door.) 

Darby. (Knocks at the door. The man goes there.) Darby, sir. 
(From outside. The man opens. Darby enters.) Haouf! (Puffing 
as if he had run.) Perhaps I staid too long. That dear little darlin! 
It was hard to lave her, not to see her again for a long time, probably. 
(Takes the keys from the man.) Now at my shepherdship again. 
(Knocks at the door. Darby runs to it.) Who is there '? 

Dowdall, ] ^rienas. 

Darhij — Oh ! I know the voices. (Opens. They enter.) The bless- 
ing of the Lord upon ye ! (O'Leary and Dowdall go down and sit near 
the table. Darby sits at the trap as before.) 

O'Leary — I hope we shall have better luck than at the insurrection of 
"98. Alas, I lost my children, wife and home then. Ah ! poor Fitz- 
gerald ! Oh, that I had been able to save him ! But I, myself, had 
afterwards to become an exile, and flee to France almost a beggar. 

DowdaU—y^G had hard times enough, indeed. Enough to enure us 
to every eventuality that may now befall us. 

O'Leary — The day ol the seige of Limerick we fought from daylight 
till dark ; it was a terrible slaughter. The choicest troops of England 
flew before the fury of the multitude; but they soon received reinforce- 
ments. I was carried, wounded, to Wexford. Thousands shed their 
blood and went to their long home. The English hurled destruction 
upon the helpless peasantry, as they returned to Dublin. They spared 
neither church nor cottage. My house was burnt, my wife and children 
slain by the brutal soldiers. When I recovered from the efiects of my 
wound on all sides I saw one vast blank of misery. Thus the rebellion 
was silenced ; but it is not over. From (hat hour it lived in this bosom. 
Let me but have retribution this time and I die content. (Knocks at 
the door.) 

Darby — Who is there ? 

Emmet — Leader. 

Darby. (Opens.) Welcome, sir. (Bows awkwardly. Emmet goes 
down. O'Leary and Dowdall shake hands.) 

Emmet— Bo you think Lieutenant Russell and the other friends will 
come ? 

O'Leary — I do not, sir. They are all too busy. We, ourselves, 
must soon be at our work, and can hardly spend any time here. 

Emmet — My soul expands at the prospect of seeing soon our green 
isle liberated and soaring like a Phoenix from the ashes of her thraldom. 
My friends, I have all confidence in you all ; and I scarcely see any 
need of detaining you here in mere conversation when you all are ready 
for action. 

Darby. (Calling out loud.) I have been smelling at this trap, and I 
feel no scent of our bird. (They all look up.) 

Dowdall— QTpen the trap and see. (Darby does so. Looks down.) 



Darby ^B.oYney man! Ohe ! (Groes down and corner; np.) Faix 
he's not tlie:e. The divil must have taken him away to his right place. 
(Pointing down.) 

Emmet — He must have run away! The work of another traitor! 
(They all go up. Dowdall takes Darby by the arm as if he suspected 
him.) 

O'Leary — Have you become a traitor, like John ? 

Darby. (Throws down shillela, scratches and pulls his hair in des- 
pair ; cries, then, as if struck by a sudden thought, strikes with the 
palm of his hand his forehead, and runs to the pikeman, takes him by 
the throat.) This man is certainly the traitor. (They all go to him.) 
Hold him. (He searches his pockets. Pulls out money.) There, there 
is the proof. I had just gone for a few minutes to eat a bite and see 
Judy, leaving hioi alone with the bird. (At this moment soldiers pull 
open the door with the buts of their guns and enter, headed by Topfall 
and Kernan. (Emmet, O'Leary and Dowdall run each for a pike, and 
take a stand of defense. Darby flourishes shillela. Tableau.) 

Topfall — It IS all of no use against us. 

Kernan — Heboid, now, who triumphs? 

(His soldiers surround the three. Point bayonets toward 
them. The three oppose pikes. Topfall and Kernan draw pistols and 
so do two other soldiers, whilst the others keep bayonets down upon 
them. Tableau.) 

^e>-«rtn— Surrender ! The streets are lined with other soldiers. 

Emmet — Surrender? I>rever. Liberty or death ! (Draws pistol.) 

O'Xemy- Mr. Emmet, spare vour life. Things may turn out right 
yet. 

Dowdall — Darby, run, give the alarm. (Darby runs away. The 
others lay down their arms. They are surrounded and pinioned. 
Tableau.) 

Scene 2.— Street. 

Darby — Och, Och ! What shall I do ? I cannot find any of the men. 
(Runs up aud down.) How dear we pay for my snug supper with 
Jady. (Judy appears.) Och, Och! Just in time to give 'me some 
consilation. 

Judy — I was just running to find ye. We heard of the hella baboo. 
Mistress is distracted. Where is her Beau ? 

Darby — Caged, caged ! Och, och ! 

Judy — You got safe, without scratches? (Examines him all around.) 

Darby- -Fm. still your poor Darby, whole and whole. (Stretching 
his arms, then crying.) 

Judy — Well, don't be so disconsolate, as long as you brought your 
skin safe out of the scrimmage. 

Darby — Poor Emmet ! Poor whiskey man ! and my poor future fath- 
er-in-law! (Crying) 

Judy— Oh, they may be liberated by the people. 

Darby— 1( that were true, bedad, Pll murder all the world, and 
drown myself for joy. 

Judy — Don't go out of your sinses. Darby. Listen, jewel. Let us 
get out of all this trouble at once. 

Darby — How? 



Judy — Let's go to 'Merica. 

Darhy. (Jumps.) And get married ? I'll Avalk all the way thjre. 

Judy — ]!s"o, no. I'll pay for a ship. I've got plenty of money— nine 
pounds in gold, 

Darhy—VW go and burn my old cabin at once. 

Jtidy — Don't be crazy. Let us first see the end of this trouble and 
then go. 

Darby — Yes ; let us go. (Exeunt.) 

Scene 3. — Prison. Emmet discovered reading a book. 

Emmet — Death! "Well, what is death after all ? We see it daily ; it 
is a sleep of mortality that never wakes ; it is the parting of soul and 
body ; the first gives up its tenement, and the last yields itself to the 
worms. But, ah! the scafibld! To quit life with a stain, and that stain 
pressed there by the tools of power, backed by the police of a base gov- 
ernment ! But I can meet my Maker, the King of king^, with a smile. 
Ah ! Ireland, thy hour ha.^ not yet come. Groan on, weeping nation, 
till the day dawns upon the downfall of thy masters. For that day must 
come. (He gapes, becoming sleepy.) I am getting sleepy. I'll rest 
awhile. (Gapes. Throws himself on the pallet.) Yes, I think — the 
day will — come. (Falls asleep. Slowly a tableau comes on in a circle 
of light, with Daniel O'Connell, who, in'^solemn, hollow voice, says :) 

Z>. O'Connell — Yes, young man, the day will come when the redemp- 
tion of Ireland, that thou so vehemently desirest, will come. But such 
is the will of Almighty God, that it may come only by degrees. I am 
destined to efifect a part of it within iiity years hence^ My co-religion- 
ists, whom you and other patriots have somewhat slighted, shall be 
emancipated by me from the penal laws that now oppress them. But 
I shall die without accomplishing the repeal of the Uuion. Thy present 
sacrifice will pave the way to my work. (Disappears.) 

Emmet. (Awaking gradually.) What a strange dream! Then 1 
am to be sacrificed ? Wei!, if the dream is to be a reality, I am ready for 
the sacrifice, were it only to relieve, in part, the sufierings of my 
countrymen. (Gapes, gets asleep again gradually.) 

(Another tableau, representing on one side a crowd, some one in it 
holding a placard, with the words " Land League," and on the other 
side Parnell, addressing them thus: 

Parnell — In 1803 Robert Emmet died a martyr for our cause. His 
blood cries vengeance against our oppressors and pleads for us. Let us 
add to that pleading our own sacrifices, and crown his and our aspira- 
tions with final success. 

The Crowd — Amen. (Tableau passes off".) 

Emmet. (Awaking.) Another dream ! But oh, how awful ! Ami 
then, really to die f (Gets up.) Well, if it be so, let me die. Martyrs' 
blood is always useful to their cause. (John, as jailor, introduces 
Maria, taking money from her. She is dressed in black and covered 
overhead with a black veil.) Do I dream again? (Rubs his eyes.) 'So 
dream now. Who art thou ? 

Maria. (Throws aside her veil.) Robert! Robert! (Falls on his 
bosom.) 

Emmet — woman, devoted woman ! In the shepherd's happy cot 



23 

she is the creature of fancy, overcome by the breeze of twilight or the 
fragrance of a rose. But rouse her affections in the hour of adversity, 
and she possesses more firmness than man can boast of. 

Maria— ^ny, I am weak now, dear Robert. My mind has been sad. 
This is the day of your trial. I gazed from my casement this morning, 
where we so often sat and watched the budding blossoms in the 
green bower, and the sky shooting to and fro with infant playfulness 
and clouds of gold. The whole horizon blushed, and the god of day, in 
his imperial car, leaped from his eastern couch, and seemed like a mes- 
senger of peace. The crowds that throng the court, and even the stern 
Lord ^orbury, whose hands are dyed in Irish blood, appeared unclouded 
by a frown. Robert, you will be acquitted, and the universal voice of 
Irishmen will hail the patriot's liberty. 

Emmet — Thou hast a sanguine heart, and I would like to live for 
thee. Dost thou remember the conversation we had the day before we 
parted last 'i 

Maria— Ye^, Robert; we spoke of another land. 

Emmet — Trae. I would go now and seek a home there with thee. 
There, many an outcast from Hibernia's shore enjoys the privilege their 
native land denies. How many noble spirits, friends of the brave Fitz- 
gerald, dwell in that happy republic, that each day rises in her young 
might, a model for the world ! (Enter John — bows respectfully.) 

John — My lady, you must depart. Mr. Emmet is summoned for 
trial. The guards wait without. 

Emmet— Go, my love ; we shall soon know the worst. 

Maria. (Weeps.) Hope deserts me now. 

Emmet— Go, dearest; be firm, I beseecli thee. 

Maria — May the great Power above be thy defender. (They em- 
brace. Exit Emmet between the soldiers. Maria looks firm, but cries. 
Kern an enters.) 

Kernan. (To jailor, giving him bribe.) Allow me to say a few 
words of consolation to the lady. I'll see her home afterwards. 

Maria. (Shuddering.) You, again? (with scorn) what do you want 
from me now ? 

Kernan — To save you from disgrace and misery, now inevitable. 

Maria — Better to suffer misery and disgrace and death, than to be 
saved by one like you, monster. 

Kernan — Calm yourself: come with me; be to me the idol that I 
adored from youth. 

Maria — Xever ; were I to starve and to die on the scaff'old with my 
only idol — Emmet. 

Kernan — Think of the disgrace that will now fall upon you, after his 
ignominious death. All, in Dublin, know of your attachment to him. 

Maria — Ignominoiis death, you say ? Say glorious death. There is 
no disgrace in it, nor will any fall on me, either. His name and mine 
will be immortal. 

Kernan— Flesifie, Maria, (she shudders scornfully.) Please view 
things in their reality and not in their poetry. Come with me ; we shall 
go and enjoy in foreign lands the comforts "that my wealth can now 
aff'ord. 

Maria—Odious being! After having accumulated wealth sacri- 
ficing by treachery and villainy the life of one who is my life, after 



24 

murdering me with him, ^-ou dare hope that I can live with you t love 
you ? Madness ! 

Kcrnan. Quick. (Attempts to take her hand.) Have pity on me 
and on yourself. 

Maria — Begone ! (He tries to sei;?e her — she screams — he lets her 
loose. Jailor appears.) 

JK'ernrt??— She won't be reapouahle. Take her home yourself. (She 
rushes away from both.) 



ACT IV. 



Scene 1.— (Interior of the Session House, Dublin ; soldiers are around ; 
the jury arranged; the judges Lord jS'orbury, is seated; Baron 
George, and Baron Daly on his sides. Emmet in prisoner's box, so 
placed that he faces the audience.) 

Norhury. (To jury.) If you are satisfied of this man's guilt you 
must discharge your duty to your king and to your country. Gentlemen 
of the jury, I shall not detain you long. You have already heard, on 
two occasions, the witnesses against him; nor has one appeared in his 
favor. According to the evidence you must find him guilty. Will you 
retire, or are your minds made up ? 

Foreman of the Jury — "We, the jury, find the priscmer guilty. 

Norhiiry — Prisoner, what have you to say why judgment of death 
should not be awarded against you accordmg to law? 

Emmet — My lords, I have nothing to say that can alter your prede- 
termination ; but I have much to ^ay why my reputation should be 
freed from the load of false accusations and calumnv. I have no hope 
that I can change my cheracter in the breast of a court constituted and 
trammelled as this is. I only wish, and it is the utmost I expect, that 
your lordships may not suffer my name to go to posterity tainted by the 
foul breath of prejudice. When my spirit shall be wafted to a more 
friendly port — when my shade shall have joined the band of those mar- 
tyred heroes, who have shed their blood on the scaffold — or on the 
field — in defense of their country and of virtue, this is my hope, that my 
memory and name may animate those who survive me, while I look 
down with complacency on the destruction of that perfidious government 
which upholds its dominion by blasphemy of the Great Judge on High — 
a government steeled to barbarity by the cries of the orphans and the 
tears of the widows, which it has made. 

Norhiiry— The mean and wicked enthusiasts who felt as you do, were 
not equal to the accomplishment of their wild design ! 

Emmet — I appeal to the Maker of all, I swear by the throne of 
Heaven, before which I must shortly appear, by the blood of the mur- 
dered patriots who have gone before me, that my conduct through all 
this peril, has been governed only by the conviction I have uttered; and 
I confidently and assuredly hope that there is still union and strength 
in Ireland to accomplish this noble enterprise ! 

Xorbury-'T do not sit here to hear treason. 



Emruci—J have always understood that judges think it their duty 
to hear with patience, and to speak with humanity. Where is the 
boasted ireedom of your institutions f Where the vaunted impartiality, 
clemency and mildness of your courts oi' justice, if an unfortunate pris- 
oner, whcmi your policy/ and not your justice, is about to deliver 
into the hands of the executioner, is not suffered to explain his motives 
sincerely and truly, and to vindicate the principles by which he was ac 
tuated f You, my loixT, are a judge. I am the vSupposed culprit. I am 
a man, y(m are a man also. By a revolution Of power we might change 
places, though we never could change characters. If I stand at the bar 
of this court" and dare to vindicate my character, how dare you to cal- 
uumiate it f Your executioner may abridge the period of my existence, 
but whilst I exist, 1 will make the best use of that hfe in doing justice 
to that reputation which is the (mly legacy I can leave to those I honor 
and love, and for whom I am proud to perish ! 

Norhi(rjj — Silence, and hear the sentence of the law. 

Emmet -Why, then, did your k)rdship insult me, or rather insult jus- 
tice in demanding of me why sentence of death should not be j)ro- 
nounced against me? I know, my lord, that form prescribes that you 
should ask the question, l^ow the forai implies the right of answering. 
This may be dispensed with; so might the whole ceremony of the trial, 
since sentence was already pronounced at the Castle before your jury 
Avas empanelled. Rut I insist on the whole of the forms ! 

Xorhnry — Go on, sir ! 

Emmet — It is alleged that I wished to sell the independence of ray 
country. I am charged with bein^ an emissary of Fi-ance. aSTo such 
thing! My ambiticm was to hold a place among the deliverers of my 
country; not in power nor in profit, but in the glory of the achieve- 
ment. Were the French to come as invaders or enemies, uninvited by 
the wishes of the people, I should oppose them to the utmost of m}- 
strength. Ah ! my country was my idol ; to it I sacrificed qyqvj selfish, 
every daring sentiment, and for it I now offer up mvlife. I see you are 
impatient for the sacrifice. The blood you seek is not congealed by the 
artificial terrors which surround your victim. It circulates warmlj^and 
unruffied tbrouah the channels which the mighty Maker created for 
nobler purposes, but which you are bent to destroy. I have but a few 
more words to say. I am going to my cold and silent home; my lamp 
of life is nearly extinguished ; the grave opens to receive me, and I sink 
into its bosom. I have one request to ask at my departure irom this 
world. Let no man write my epitaph. As you cannot appreciate my 
m.otives, let not prejudice or ignorance asperse them. Let them and 
me repose m peace, and my tomb remain uninscribed until other times 
and other men can do justice to niy character. When my country takes 
her place among the nations of the earth ; then, and not till then/letmy 
epitaph be written. I have done ! 

Norhary — I must now perform the painful duty that devolves upon 
me. You have been convicted of treason. But let me exhort you not 
to depart this life with such sentiments of rooted hostility to your king! 

Emmet. (Pointing upwards.) My King is there ! (Tableau.) 

ScENK 2. — A landscape. (Enter Darby, with a large bundle fastened to 
his Ijack on a stick, followed by Judy, bundle on her arm.) 



26 

Darl)}j — Come along, darling-, never say die. I know it's heart-break- 
ing to depart from the place where we first drew the breath of life ; but 
upon my soul, a fellow can't call his life his own in these times. Bedad I 
the Green Isle used to be renowned for hurling matches and amuse- 
ments that did a fellow's heart good to see them ; but the greatest sport 
going on now is to hang poor divils for nothing at all, just to please the 
government. (Throws down bundle.) 

Judy — Sure I can't help thinking about the poor master that they are 
going to murder. I'm glad that my lady will go to reside with her 
lather. She's broken-hearted. 

Darbij. (Takes small flask from his pocket.) Sit down, cushla, and 
take a drop ol comfort— the spirit's not in me. (Both sit.) Here, wet 
your whistle, Judy ; it will cheer you up a bit. We have three long 
iniles to trudge before we reach the sea-shore. (Gives Judy flask ; she 
tastes it and returns it.) I hope we'll have the luck to find a ship 
leady to sail for 'Merica. Faix, I long to be there. (Sings.) 

They sa,y there's bread and work for all, 

And the sun shines always there ; 
Bat I'll not forget old Ireland, 

"Were it fifty times as fair. (Drinks.) 

(Rising.) Come, Judy, it's no use thinking, as my father used to 
say : ''grieving is folly, so let us be jolly." (Exeunt I)arby and Judy.) 

Scene 3. — (Street — People discovered-Music, dead march. Enter pro 
cession. OflScers, Sergeant with soldiers, Emmet, <fec.) 

Serg. — Have you anything to say ? 

Emmet. (Takes papers from Idosoiu.) Here are several letters I 
wish conveyed to my friends. (Gives them.) And this is my last re- 
quest, that my body be not mutilated. 

Serg. — Your commands shall be faithfully attended to, sir. 

Emmet — Thanks. Tiiere is one I would have given more than life to 
see once more before I leave this stage of acti(m. For the public service 
I abandoned the worship of another idol, the adored of my heart. (A 
scream without. Maria rashes in, falls into Emmet's arms.) Angelic 
woman — fit consort for the noblest soul that ever inhabited mortality — 
how pale this alabaster brow ! But weep not fen* me. 

Maria. (Pointing off.) • There— there — horrible ! 

Emmet — What dost thou see to cause this terror? 

Maria. (Shuddering.) That awful preparation! 

Emmet— 'Tin nothing. Alas ! poor Ireland is familiar with such 
scenes ! 

Maria — Mark how the rope waves to and fro in the clear wind. See 
the hangman, the coffin, and the throng of gaping multitude. Horror ! 
horror ! 

Emmet — I do implore thee, be calm. These sights suit not a woman's 
eye; yet hear my parting words. Take this dear image of thyself, 
(gives" her miniature,) and treasure it as I have done. Forget this 
awi'ul hour, and think only of the halcyon days we have enjoyed to- 
gether. But if hereafter my name should be used as a ribald mock by 
those in power, say he died in a transport of his country's love. 



Sery. (Advauces.) Mr. Emmet, your time has expired, 
Maria. (Bell tt)lls.) Robert ! Kobert ! (Falls upon bis bosom.) 
Emmet. (To soldiers.) Bear ber gently hence. (Maria faiuts and 
falls.) Emmet looks affectionately at Maria, then sigDifies that he is 
ready; the procession goes od, bell tolls; drums beat. Tableau.) 



Scene 3. — Silent— Fuuera 
body is carried on a bier- 
Tableau. 



procession after the hanging — Emmet's 
-Maria rises and throws herself on him. 



EXT). 




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